


The Adventures of Larry Brown, Green Grocer

by butterflyslinky



Category: DCU, Marvel
Genre: F/M, Humor, Justice Memes (Tumblr), Memevengers (Tumblr), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: Brown's Shopping and Delivery Service: Putting the Super back in Supermarket!Someone has to keep the superheroes and villains fed. And Larry Brown is the only person brave enough to do so.





	The Adventures of Larry Brown, Green Grocer

**Author's Note:**

> This is in-continuity with the Memevengers and Justice Memes on Tumblr. No regular schedule, just whenever I feel like updating.

_Delivery time: 8 AM_

_Delivery address: Wayne Manor, Gotham._

Larry Brown was the bravest grocery shopper and delivery boy in the tri-state area. Not only was he willing to drive around to various stores to get exactly what his clients wanted, but he was willing to drive to several cities every day so that his busy, busy clientele wouldn’t have to worry.

The first stop of the day was Gotham City. Larry pulled his truck up into the Whole Foods and headed inside, phone in hand with the Wayne’s order for the day.

It took almost two hours, but Larry still had plenty of time in hand to get to Wayne Manor. It took several trips to carry everything up the drive, but he managed and knocked on the kitchen window.

Mr. Kent opened it, right on time. “Mornin’, Larry,” he said.

“Morning, Mr. Kent,” Larry said. He started passing the bags through the window, going as quickly as possible. Fortunately, Mr. Kent understood and simply accepted everything before signing off on the invoice.

“We’re going to up our order next week,” Mr. Kent said. “We’ve just gotten another mouth to feed.”

“You got it,” Larry said. “Thanks for the warning.” He gave Mr. Kent a perfunctory smile before turning to run back down the drive.

No way was he sticking around Wayne Manor any longer than he had to. Not after the only time he had tried going to the front door.

He would never forget the terror of being greeted by a ten-year-old holding a sword over his shoulder and glaring. Nor would he forget having a preteen fall off the support beams, knocking several bags to the floor. Nor was he going to forget the giant demon dog that growled at him until he dropped the food and ran.

Mr. Kent had apologized, of course, and slipped Larry a nice bonus, but Larry had decided right then that he would deliver through the kitchen window.

No one really seemed to mind it.

 

_Delivery time: 10 PM_

_Delivery address: Stark Tower, New York City_

Larry hadn’t started off as a grocery deliverer.

At first, he’d just been one of the many, many stock boys, trying to make it in the big city. Steady job, low pay, but enough for his shoebox apartment, and with enough time to work on his screenplays.

But then one day, the delivery boy at his store had up and quit. No notice, no warning, just walked in after a delivery and declared that he was done. Find someone else to do this crazy job, because he wouldn’t.

The manager had looked panicked, because the last order that delivery boy had done was to Stark Tower, easily the most lucrative contract in the city. And if they couldn’t find someone to deliver, they’d lose it pretty quickly. So the manager had desperately cast around for someone, anyone, who would be willing to drive the delivery van.

And Larry, bored and strapped for cash, had volunteered.

The first day wasn’t so bad. Traffic was awful, of course, but he’d managed to make all his deliveries in time. All to the upper echelon of New York, so he came out with more tip money than he usually made it a week. Larry decided he could get used to it

But the next day, another order for Stark Tower came in. Larry loaded up and went to deliver it, marveling at the sleek lobby and the automated elevator that took him all the way up to floor 60.

He was less marveled when an arrow went through one of the bags the second he got off the elevator.

He shrieked, and then Hawkeye—the Hawkeye! The superhero!—fell from a vent and landed on his back. “Ow,” Hawkeye muttered.

“Uh…”  Larry said.

Just then, the Scarlet Witch appeared, wearing a black house dress and an apron and carrying a wooden spoon and looking like…an ordinary housewife. She sighed in relief and waved her hand and the grocery bags floated out of Larry’s hands and into the kitchen.

“Get up, Clint,” she said as she stepped over to sign the invoice.

There was a crash from somewhere down the hall, and the Scarlet Witch put up her hand behind her to block the fire from the following explosion. She didn’t even look back once.

“You will have tomorrow’s order by noon,” she said, and handed Larry an envelope. “For your trouble.” She then picked Hawkeye up in a haze of red and walked back through the other door.

Larry understood why his predecessor had quit. He was about ready to as well, but then he looked in the envelope.

Five thousand dollars cash, just for delivering groceries.

And he got to see actual heroes. Larry didn’t usually admit it, but he loved the Avengers. They were so exciting and glamorous, so alive and…heroic. He’d been following their exploits in every tabloid he could, so to be there, in their home, delivering their food…

Well, it sounded like a good deal to him.

 

_Delivery time: 11 PM_

_Delivery address: Baxter Building, New York_

Larry hadn’t gotten the idea for his business until two weeks later, when he got an order from Sue Storm at the Baxter Building.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look so tired. Ms. Storm was pleasant, but she seemed exhausted as she signed off on the invoice.

The reason for her exhaustion soon became apparent as a tiny girl came whirling out of another room and dove for the grocery bags. The little girl rummaged through before turning to her mother with a pout. “He didn’t bring my cookies!”

“Your cookies come from a different store, Val,” Ms. Storm said in the tone of a long-suffering parent. “I’ll go get them tomorrow.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Val snapped, and stomped off in a huff.

Ms. Storm shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “She spends too much time around the lab.” She signed off on the invoice. “Don’t suppose your store intends to start carrying strawberry surprise cookies?”

“Don’t think so,” Larry said. “But this is my last delivery…I could go pick some up for you.”

He didn’t know why he made the offer except that Ms. Storm just looked so miserable. It was worth it when her face lit up. “Could you?” she asked. “Oh, thank you…just a moment.” She returned a second later with a handful of cash. “Keep the change,” she said.

It honestly wasn’t that much trouble to pick up something extra for Ms. Storm, but as Larry went back to the Baxter Building, cookies in hand, his mind was ticking.

There weren’t many people willing to deliver to superheroes, lucrative contracts or not. He’d heard tell from other delivery boys that most stores refused on principle to send anything to Stark Tower. He didn’t doubt the same was true of the Baxter Building. And there were others, heroes and villains throughout the city—beyond New York, nearby, who would need groceries.

But it wasn’t like Batman could just walk into a Whole Foods whenever he wanted to get…whatever Batman ate.

It took a few weeks to get everything set up, but the tips Larry had gotten were enough to pay for a truck and some advertising. The Scarlet Witch put him in touch with some of Stark Industry’s people, who started getting the word out.

Soon, Larry had everything he needed. A truck, a website, a separate phone entirely for business, and a long list of heroes and villains alike who were desperate for someone to deliver food. Sure, Larry signed more non-disclosure agreements than he knew could possibly exist, but it was worth it to get the contracts.

And at the rate his business was growing, Larry was about ready to start hiring help. Though he didn’t know where he’d find anyone else able to deal with this particular brand of crazy.

 

_Delivery time: 1 PM_

_Delivery address: Arkham Asylum, Gotham City_

Larry was used to strict security systems, but none beat Arkham Asylum.

He had a pass, of course, his fingerprints programmed into the door system. The guards and doctors all knew him and ignored him as he walked to the front desk.

“Today’s orders,” Larry said.

The receptionist smiled. “Thank you,” she said, signing the invoice and passing over an envelope. “The inmates all got together and put together a little extra for you. You can’t know just how much they like being able to choose their own food.”

Larry smiled and took the envelope. “Happy to help,” he said.

He had been shocked when he first got the call from Arkham. When he started, he expected to get calls from heroes, maybe some of the less scary villains. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might get a contract this big; didn’t prisons and hospitals contract from the big shipping companies?

But Dr. Leland had explained that it was something new they were trying—giving the inmates some degree of independence by allowing them to order their own groceries, and Mr. Wayne had recommended Larry’s business.

And as grim as Arkham was, it was actually one of the calmer stops on Larry’s route. He was kept on the upper floor, well away from the inmates, and he only ever spoke to the receptionist who called in the order. No explosions, no threats to his life, no bratty kids. Sure, he was delivering to the most dangerous people in Gotham, but he never had to interact with them.

And they seemed to appreciate him, he reflected as he looked through the tip they gave. Maybe a bit of independence wasn’t bad for them at all.

 

_Delivery time: 2 PM_

_Delivery address: Mutant Liberation Front Headquarters (location beyond classified)_

Larry was exhausted by the time he reached the door. He dropped the bags on the porch and reached for the bell, but the door swung open before he could ring.

Mystique smiled at him. “Professor X said you were here.”

“Oh,” Larry said. “Is he visiting?”

“All weekend,” Mystique said. “Hence the extra-large order. Mags has called a full Mutant Family Dinner. And you know what that means.”

“Yes,” Larry said. He handed her the invoice, which she signed quickly before giving Larry a check.

“Little bonus,” she said. “Those are heavy. Now run.”

Larry didn’t need telling twice. He turned and dashed down the drive.

Mutant Family Dinners were rare occasions, but when they happened, Larry had to carry a lot of bags up to whichever house was holding it. He’d lingered just a little too long the first time, and his hair hadn’t grown back for a week.

Still, it was kind of worth it to see Magneto scolding a grown villain like a child.

Larry was kind of amazed that both the X-Men and the Mutant Liberation Front trusted him enough to give him their locations. It’s wasn’t like Larry was a mutant, after all. Then again, there weren’t many mutants working in grocery delivery, and definitely not many normal people who could be trusted to keep mutants’ locations safe, while also knowing how to tell if something was kosher at a glance.

But they did trust him. And Larry wouldn’t have a business if he ever betrayed that trust.

 

_Delivery time: 5 PM_

_Delivery address: Iceberg Lounge, Gotham_

Larry sighed in relief as he took his last order of the day into the back kitchen of the Iceberg Lounge. Most businesses used wholesale suppliers, but Mr. Copplepot trusted Larry more.

Killer Croc grinned at him as he brought in the bags. “All done for the day?” Croc asked.

“Yeah,” Larry said, passing over the invoice.

Killer Croc signed off and gave another shark grin. “She’s off in an hour,” he said. “Go sit and I’ll have your usual ready soon.”

Larry smiled back and headed out to the dining room. He sat down in the back corner, away from the actual customers, and waited.

Sure enough, Selinda wandered over to him a few minutes later. Larry’s smile grew. This was his reward after a long day of work—getting to sit in the Iceberg Lounge and talk to her for an hour before she got off. After that, well, it depended on the evening, but Larry was hopeful for this one.

He met her the first time he delivered to the Lounge. Mr. Copplepot had invited him to sit down and eat, on the house in lieu of a tip, but Larry actually didn’t mind. He took the offer, sat in the back, and had been greeted by a tiny strawberry blonde with dramatic makeup and a very fake smile.

“Os says y’eat free,” she said, her Australian accent sharp on Larry’s ears. “So y’must be someone important.”

“Uh…I’m Larry,” he said. “Brown’s Shopping and Delivery.” She looked unimpressed and Larry kept babbling. “Putting the super back in supermarket,” he finished, lamely.

She stared for a solid minute before she started laughing. “Well, that’s about the dumbest thing I ever heard,” she said. “But g’on…order what y’want.”

So Larry did. And if he started looking forward to this delivery more than the others, well, that was his business.

Selinda continued to serve him, they continued to chat, and then one day Larry worked up the courage to ask if she’d like to get a drink after work. To his shock, she agreed, and it was a great night. She took interest in Larry’s boring life, and he was fascinated by her life as a former supervillain.

“But you’re not evil,” he said when she told him.

Selinda laughed. “What’d’y’know about that?” she said. “Y’die once, wake up in a new universe, and then the feckin’ Penguin’s offering you a job and a chance at redemption.”

“I’m glad you took it,” Larry said.

She smiled. “So am I.”

Tonight, Larry grinned at her. “You busy tonight?”

She grinned back. “Not at all,” she said. “And I’d love t’read your new screenplay.”

“Well, then,” Larry said. “I’ll have to take you home to read it.”


End file.
